


Stars Fall: Saving Mrs. Hudson

by soulgyrl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 11:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgyrl/pseuds/soulgyrl
Summary: This story is for a writing prompt for the FB group Sherlock-ian Things-"The elephant in the room". Somethings not right with Mrs. Hudson. It's up to Sherlock and John to figure out what to do about it.





	Stars Fall: Saving Mrs. Hudson

Stars Fall: Saving Mrs. Watson

“But daddy, I don’t want any more carrots. Me don’t like them.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moaned in exasperation. “I Rosie, it’s _I_ don’t like them not _me_. We really can’t have you going around sounding like some…”

“Okay, Sherlock, “John interrupted. “I realize you’re trying to help, but she’s _three._ Remember that. She’ll…get there. But, Rosie…you do need to finish your vegetables if you want to go for ice cream with Mrs. Hudson later. And then tomorrow we’ll all be…”

**_BEEP...BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…._** The shrill wail of a smoke alarm sounded; the noise wafting up from the flat below.

“For the love of god, not again,” John erupted, jumping up from the table and overturning his chair. “Sherlock, you stay with Rosie. I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

John scurried down the steps, two at a time, to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. He bounded in to find the lady furiously fanning a newspaper at something smoking in the sink.

“Oh, John,” she cried upon seeing the man. “I…I don’t know what happened. I was watching a bit of telly, waiting for my eggs to boil, and next thing I knew… I …”

Her voice trailed off and John could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay Mrs. H.  The important thing is you’re not hurt.”

The lady shook her head and gave John a weak smile. “No…no just my dinner burnt and my best saucepan ruined, but…I’m fine.”

“Well, I can remedy the dinner bit. We’re in the process of eating ourselves and there’s plenty. Come back upstairs with me and when we’ve finished we’ll all go out for ice cream. Rosie’s been looking forward to it all day.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And here we are…strawberry for you, John; salted caramel for Mrs. Hudson; chocolate for Miss Rosamund; and pistachio for yours truly.” Sherlock placed the bowls of ice cream in front of everyone then sat down to join them. The little party had made their way to Solomon’s Treat Palace after dinner and was now enjoying an early evening outing, the incident with the smoke alarm behind them.

“Mrs. Huzon,” Rosie began, “Will you ride on the caro…caro…”

“It’s _carousel_ , Rosie.” John finished.

“Uh huh. That. Will you ride on that with me tomorrow at the festibal?” The child asked.

The woman looked quizzically at John and Sherlock, shaking her head.

“The harvest do at the Manor Gardens. They’re adding a carousel this year.” Sherlock offered.

John cleared his throat. “You do remember we’ve plans to go tomorrow, right?”

Mrs. Hudson sighed. “I…I guess it must have slipped my mind, but yes…yes that sounds lovely. And of course, Rosie dear… I will ride the carousel with you. How about a nice, colorful ostrich? I’ll stand beside you.”

Rosie broke into laughter, chocolate ice cream dripping from her chin. “Yay… I get to ride an ostich…I get to ride an ostich…”

“ _Ostrich_ , child _. Ostrich_ ,” Sherlock corrected. He just couldn’t help himself.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the four left 221B for a cab waiting at the curb. Mrs. Hudson shivered and pulled her jacket in a bit tighter as she settled herself in her seat.

“Brrr…this festival would have to fall on the coldest day we’ve had this month. It’s quite brisk out here this morning.”

“Ah,” Sherlock began, “it’ll do us all good to get some fresh, restorative, country air into our lungs.”

“Not to mention a couple pints of pumpkin ale in the belly,” John added.

Mrs. Hudson wrinkled her nose. “Pumpkin Ale? Oh, I don’t think I’d like that. Sounds….ghastly.”

“Actually, no. It’s rather nice, “John chuckled. “But, there will be plenty of other goodies there, no doubt.”

Within half an hour the cab arrived at their destination and they began their day of fun. They enjoyed browsing through several craft tents, watched a wood-working display, and spent a good twenty minutes in the petting zoo. Mrs. Hudson purchased half a dozen apple donuts to share. Sherlock accompanied Rosie on a short wagon ride while John went in search of the ale tent. Meeting up once again, they looked over the harvest fruits and vegetables displayed for sale, promising Rosie a pumpkin to take home to carve before they left.

John picked up his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. “Well then, we’ve made quite a day of it. I say we let Rosie have her carousel ride and head for Baker Street.”

The other adults nodded in agreement.

“Actually, I need to go find the loo,” John stated, putting Rosie down. “Mrs. Hudson, would you mind taking our little one here to the carousel seeing as you’re the one who’s offered to ride with her?”

Mrs. H smiled at the little girl and took her hand.

“Of course. Come, my little love.”

Sherlock smiled at the both of them. “And, uh…I’ll go choose the pumpkin. Shall we all meet up at the carousel then?”

Everyone was in agreement, so they all went their separate ways.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was heading for the carousel, pumpkin in hand, when he stopped in his tracks. Sitting on a bench five feet in front of him and looking rather agitated, was Mrs. Hudson. She was nowhere near the carousel…and Rosie was nowhere in sight. Slightly panicked, he hurried towards her shouting. “Mrs. Hudson…Mrs. Hudson…”

The woman stood and turned in his direction.

“Mrs. Hudson, why aren’t you at the carousel? Where’s Rosie?”

The lady was visibly shaking and her lips were moving, but no sound came forth. She pointed behind her.

“Oh dear God,” Sherlock whispered to himself, throwing down the pumpkin. He grasped the woman firmly, but gently, by the shoulders. “Mrs. Hudson….where is Rosie? Where’s John? Is she with John? Mrs. Hudson…please.”

 

But all she could do was shake her head in the negative and the tears started streaming down her cheeks. Sherlock’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his head for a split second. When he lifted it again he saw John bounding towards them. He reached them slightly out of breath.

“Hello. Where’s Rosie?” The look on Sherlock’s face told him all he needed to know.”

“Dear Jesus. Mrs. Hudson, where’s my daughter… where’s Rosie?”

“I…I…we were waiting our turn and I started talking with Mrs. Bowman. Then Rosie got on and…the music stopped…..and…. I don’t know…I don’t know…”

John turned and ran to the carousel. He jostled his way through the crowd of people…mummy’s and daddy’s with excited, bubbly children waiting their turn, and he felt the bile rise in his throat and the white-hot hand of fear wrench his gut.

_Jesus, this can’t be happening. Not to me, not to my Rosie. God, I can’t lose her, too. I can’t._

He was working his way to the other side when he thought he heard a voice calling his name. He turned behind him and saw the familiar figure of Janine about twelve feet away. She was holding the hand of a sobbing little girl. It was Rosie. John thought his legs would give out on him before he reached the two. He fell onto his knees in front of his daughter and grabbed her tight.

“Oh my god, thank god. Oh Rosie, honey I’m so sorry.”

He stood with the child wrapped firmly in his arms. “Janine, thank you. My god, I was so scared. I’m so sorry. She was supposed to have been with my landlady.”

“Mrs. H?” Janine asked. “I saw her wandering away from this area, but I never put it together that she would have been with Rosie. I suppose I should have. Anyway, I recognized Rosie from our meeting in the bookshop a couple of weeks ago, remember? I was starting to get a little worried. I knew you’d never be letting her wandering around on her own. I figured she’d gotten away from you somehow. I’d just been contemplating having you paged when I spotted you….looking.”

“Well thank heavens it was you who found her. I appreciate you looking out for her, Janine. I’d say come over and visit sometime, but that might be….uncomfortable for you.”

“Is…he here?” She questioned, referring to Sherlock.

“Um…yeah…yeah, he’s with Mrs. Hudson. I suppose I should go to them. Hopefully, they stayed put. I’m sure they’re wondering. I need to get us all home. Anyway, thank you again, Janine. Really.”

“Always, John. Ta-ta.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within two hours, Mrs. Hudson was installed back in her flat with a pot of good, strong tea and the reassurance that “her boys” were not angry with her. John bathed Rosie, read her a story, and tucked her in for the night. He came back downstairs and found Sherlock planted in his chair. John took his regular seat opposite. A steaming pot of Darjeeling awaited pouring on the table.

“Unless you’d prefer something stronger,” Sherlock remarked, indicating a bottle of Glenkinchie that he had placed beside the tea.

“Tea’s fine…for now. But leave the bottle. I might need it before the nights over.”

Sherlock jumped up, poured them both a cup and took John’s to him. “I was thinking I might do a little…work. I have half a dozen slides I need to analyze for the Nelson case. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Sherlock…”

“Yes?”

“Really…that’s it? We’re not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?”

“Oh, bloody hell, Sherlock!” John exclaimed, banging his cup down on the table a little more forcefully than he intended.

“Today…Mrs. Hudson…Mrs. Hudson today! Shit, Mrs. Hudson the last five or six months. Come on, Sherlock don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, haven’t thought about it. You _know_ we both have. We’ve just been…avoiding it. Too scared to bring it up, I suppose. I mean, shit. It’s like we’re worried that if we talk about it, it will make it… real somehow. Except that... _it already is_. Something’s wrong with her, Sherlock.  Last night…the smoke alarm; I’ll wager she forgot she’d even turned the stove on. And that was the fourth time in two weeks she’s set that alarm off.  And remember last May we had to go fetch her from Coggs’ because she came out of Robinson’s shop and couldn’t remember which way was home? She’d gone nine blocks in the _opposite direction_ before she realized something wasn’t right. But today, today…bloody hell _._ She wasn’t simply distracted. Why wasn’t she on the ride with Rosie like she said she would be? Because she _forgot_ , Sherlock…. _forgot Rosie was even there._

Sherlock sighed and returned to his chair. “Last week, she and I had a little lunch in Speedy’s and Mrs. Turner came in. She didn’t know her. And they’ve been neighbors for how long? A few months ago she had complained to me that she hadn’t received any mail in a long while. I knew that wasn’t true because I had given her some myself. I found about four months’ worth stuffed in a bag under one of her sofa cushions. She claimed she had no idea how it got there. So, you’re right. We should have known. You’re equally right that, subconsciously, I’m sure I did know and just didn’t want to face it. Don’t want to face it now.”

John ran a hand across his face. “I don’t either, Sherlock, but we’re all she has. If we don’t do it…. then…who?”

“So, how are we going to approach this?”

John blew out his breath and sat back in his chair. “I…I think I’ll call Molly. Mrs. H trusts her and it might be a good idea to have a female involved. She might even listen to her better than she would us. This isn’t going to be pleasant, Sherlock. She may even get angry with us. We see it at all the time at the clinic. People in denial. Refusing treatment. Anyway, I’m _assuming_ we’re dealing with some sort of dementia here. Possibly Alzheimer’s. There are medications, but they can’t stop or cure it. Speaking of meds, I know she’s on a few now for high blood pressure and her heart condition. Oh lord, I wonder if she’s been taking _them_ correctly. Of course, it _could_ be something not quite as severe as Alzheimer’s.  An infection in the elderly can cause confusion. Although, I think she’d be showing other signs of real illness by now if that were the case. Shit.”

Sherlock stood and started pacing. “I…hate this. We went through the same thing with my gran. Probably why I didn’t _want_ to see it in Mrs. H. It’s a horrible business. It nearly broke my grandfather. Yes, call Molly. Or I could visit the lab and talk with her if you’d like.” He stopped beside the table and reached for the Glenkinchie. “Seems as good a time as any for this,” he remarked, as he poured John and himself a substantial amount of the stuff. “Alright then, when should we approach Mrs. Hudson about this?”

“Let’s see what suits Molly first,” John announced, accepting Sherlock’s offering. “I hope we can get this done within the next week; preferably sooner. Especially if the old dear _is_ missing her essential medications…then this isn’t an issue to be toying with. I pray we’re up to the challenge. We _have_ to be. Rosie would be devastated if something happened to her, and that child has suffered enough loss in her young life. I’ll do everything in my power to keep things going as smooth as possible. Not to mention that Mrs. H is too dear to me to even consider letting her dash about in confusion… or languish in some nursing facility. I’ll quit my practice first.”

“Right,” Sherlock agreed, knocking back the remnants of his whiskey. “We can make this work. I’ll bet mummy would be willing to come and sit with her occasionally. She can dazzle her with all her thrilling stories about the dynamics of combustion or whatever else she happens to be tinkering with at the moment. Mrs. H is one of the most important females in my universe, you know…along with my mum and sister. And our princess,” he stated as he looked towards the stairs.

“Oh, Sherlock,” John remarked, draining his glass. “It’s a funny old world, isn’t it? Separate the wheat from the chaff and take those precious grains you’ve garnered and hold them close. With everything that’s happened in the last five or so years, well, I’m learning to not take anything for granted. Stars fall. We’ve both seen enough to realize our time here is fleeting. And our time with good health and our wits about us sometimes proves to be even more fleeting, but enough of that for tonight. I’m ready to pack it in for the day…what say you?”

“Quite.” was the reply. “John, I know I’ve said this before, probably ad nauseum, but thank you for moving back here to Baker Street. I mean it. You’ve…it’s…been brilliant…truly. And now, I think I will retire myself.” Sherlock rose and headed towards his bedroom.

 “Good night, Sherlock,” John uttered. “The feelings mutual, I hope you know. See you in the morning.” And he ascended the stairs to join his slumbering daughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
